


“You deserve so much better.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [38]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 14:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15753174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two.





	“You deserve so much better.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelvindalegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelvindalegirl/gifts).



> A gift for Kelvindalegirl. Thank you for the prompt!
> 
> Robin and Matthew mid divorce, M visits the office in a rage, R&M having a fight on the stairs/landing, Strike arrives back from being out, witnesses M touching R inappropriately, threatens M to fuck off or else, R battling to hold it together but some tears slip out when she is back in the office kitchen when she thinks Strike isn’t looking....

“I’ll see you later,” Strike said to Robin, and she flashed him a smile from her desk. It was his turn to follow Redhead to yoga and lunch. Their long-term target was so boring to tail, they took it in turns as much as possible.

As soon as he’d gone, Robin picked up her mobile. Another three messages from Matthew. She sighed. Up until the last week, the divorce had been proceeding reasonably smoothly, but they had reached an impasse on the savings they’d built up for a deposit on a house. Matthew was insisting on a highly unequal split, claiming he’d put most of the money in as he earned more. But the account had been opened with a gift from Robin’s parents, and anyway her solicitor assured her that in a simple divorce such as theirs with no property or children to take into consideration, a fifty-fifty split on everything was standard.

She’d taken to ignoring all calls and texts from him during work hours, only replying in the evenings, something which seemed to irritate him further.

The door buzzer went. Robin put her mobile back in her bag and went to answer it.

“Robin, it’s me.” Matthew’s voice made her heart sink. “We need to talk about this properly. Can I come up?”

Robin didn’t want him in the office. She was a little nervous, suddenly. She didn’t want Matthew to know Strike wasn’t there. “I’ll come down,” she said briskly. She hung up the entry phone and set off down the stairs. _Silly to be nervous,_ she thought. _He might have a nasty tongue sometimes, but he’s never been physical._

When she opened the outside door, Matthew walked straight in past her, not giving her a chance to hold him on the doorstep or step out onto the street to talk. He moved towards the stairs, but she was determined to keep him down here by the front door, her means of escape should she need it.

“We can talk here, Matthew,” she said, firmly, squaring her shoulders as he turned back towards her. “We have a client upstairs, and Strike...”

“..isn’t here,” Matthew said quietly. “He just left.”

Robin stared at him, the first frisson of real alarm shooting down her spine. “Were you...waiting for him to leave?” she asked, warily. She suddenly wished firstly that she had locked the office, and secondly that she’d brought her phone down with her.

...

Halfway down Charing Cross Road, Strike realised he had forgotten both cigarettes and wallet. He had the crossword, but no means of buying more cigarettes or a coffee. A hunt through his pockets yielded less than a pound in loose change. Cursing under his breath, he turned to retrace his steps. He had time to pop back to the office and not be late for Redhead, just.

As he paused outside the office door, hunting through his pockets again for his keys, he could hear raised voices inside, a man’s voice first, and then...Robin’s. Concern for her jolted through him and he was on high alert as he slid the key quietly into the lock and opened the door.

“..get off me!” Robin was saying, and Strike’s gaze took in the scene in an instant. A furious Matthew had hold of Robin by her upper arm. She looked blazingly angry as she tried to twist out of his grip, but also just a little afraid.

Strike stepped forward, twice as large suddenly, his presence filling the small hallway. Matthew flushed angrily. Robin looked immensely relieved to see him.

“You heard her,” Strike said quietly, but there was menace in his voice that sent another thrill of fear down Robin’s spine. “Let go of her.”

Furious, Matthew let go of Robin’s arm and turned to face Strike. Robin took a step back, rubbing her arm where it had been gripped.

“I’ll deal with this,” Strike said to Robin without looking at her, without taking his eyes off Matthew. “You can go upstairs if you want.”

“Robin, stay!” Matthew demanded loudly. Robin hesitated.

Strike’s voice was still calm and level, belying the fury that coursed through his veins. “Robin may go or stay as she chooses,” he said to the young accountant. “You, however, are leaving.”

Robin turned away and started to climb the stairs. Matthew moved to follow her, but Strike moved too, surprisingly quickly, blocking his path. He faced off against the younger man, inches apart.

“Leave,” he said quietly, “or I’ll make you.” He had made no move to touch Matthew, but his hands had curled into fists at his sides.

Matthew hesitated, and then turned and marched out of the front door, slamming it hard behind him. Strike followed, opening the door again and standing in the doorway, watching Matthew walk up the road until he turned the corner and went out of sight. He didn’t look back.

Strike sighed. He relaxed his hands and made a conscious effort to let go of his anger, and went back into the building. He climbed steadily up the flights of stairs to the office.

Robin was standing at the sink, her back to the door. The kettle was reaching the boil, chuntering away to itself next to two mugs with tea bags in them.

“You okay?” he asked gruffly, touching her shoulder lightly.

Robin jumped out of her skin, clearly having not heard him approach. She jerked away from him and he took a hurried step back, hands up in front of him.

“Shit, sorry, Robin,” he said. “I was just...”

She shook her head. Her face was white and he wondered if it was Matthew who had done that or if it was because he had frightened her.

“It’s fine,” she said tightly. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you, and I thought...” She glanced at the door.

“He’s gone,” Strike said, and she nodded. Then her face twisted suddenly and turned red. Tears spilled from her eyes and she turned away from him, hiding her face.

“Robin...” he began, but he didn’t dare touch her again. He stood helplessly for a minute while she took shuddering breaths and struggled to pull herself together. Finally she turned back to him, pinning a brave smile on her face that broke his heart a little.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’ll all be over soon and I’ll be rid of him.”

“Jesus, Robin,” Strike burst out suddenly. “What the hell were you ever doing with him? You deserve so much better.” The anger he thought he’d controlled surged again.

She smiled softly. “I know that now,” she said. “Just took me a while to see it.”

She looked him up and down, noting his clenched hands, his tense jaw, the pulse jumping in his neck. She stepped towards him and put a calming hand on his chest.

“It’s fine,” she said softly. “ _I’m_ fine. Thank you.”

“If I hadn’t come back...”

“..I’d have dealt with it. But I’m glad I didn’t have to.”

Strike looked at her, so calm, and relaxed a little. She would have dealt with it, too, just like she dealt with everything that came her way. Calmly and firmly.

Her hand was still on his chest. He suddenly realised how close she was standing. He glanced down at her hand and back up at her. She flushed a little, but didn’t remove it. In fact her fingers curled a little, playing with the fabric of his shirt, stroking it.

Before he could work out what he could or should do, she stepped forward again and reached up to kiss him. Her lips were soft against his, pressing a simple, chaste kiss to his mouth, but his heart lit up as if he’d stepped over a flame.

“Thank you,” she murmured again, and she met his gaze, so close, the question in her eyes.

He leaned down and kissed her, properly this time, his lips brushing over hers and his tongue seeking to explore. Her hand tightened on his shirt and she pressed closer. His hands found her waist and then slid around her to pull her against him. They kissed and kissed for a long minute, and then Strike drew back and rested his forehead on hers.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

 

 


End file.
